Heroes Symphony
by SadisticxBoredom
Summary: [snarry] Harry's been having odd dreams, ones that involve professor Severus Snape. His world reverses after a rather crazy night, and what's normal is now inversed. After an intrepid visit from his uncle, will Severus catch him when he falls, or not?
1. Symphonic

**Heroes Symphony**

**Notes:** Mmm'kay. This doesn't belong to me, never will, alrighty? Good. This is my first Snarry ficlet; I hope it'll turn out okay.

_- - -_

_I, I..._

_I will be king..._

_And you,_

_You will be queen--_

_Though nothing will drive them away--_

_We can beat them, _

_Just for one day_

_We can be heroes,_

_Just for one day..._

- - -

Swirling betwixt the flashes of rainbow light, Harry Potter found himself falling. Falling... Falling... _Falling_ faster, _faster, and **faster**_ with each passing moment. Amazingly, his glasses stayed on with each throe of pain, his body being shot harder down the endless portal. His arms and legs were spread outwards, robes scattered around his body. He felt weightless. He felt immortal. He felt agonized. A gasping breath shot outwards, sparkling, shimmering air being drawn back in just as shortly as it was drawn out. He dared to open his eyes, green and reflecting every color, every destructive image—he couldn't drive them away. They were so beautiful, he and the colors. They swirled about his limbs, tangling, _tangling_ around them, and he gasped as he was pulled to another part of the world. Another part of those amazing lights, though he felt a hand upon his. A rough hand, though gentle and soft; it pulled him away. He struggled. A black sleeve caught onto his own fingers as he reluctantly pulled away, and he could faintly see a white undershirt—or a dress, he couldn't tell—beneath the black.

He awoke.

Breath was hurried, his lungs feeling as if they were going to collapse. Twelve-year-old Harry shot upright, hair which was plastered to his face doing the same. "Bloody hell," he murmured, feeling the stares upon him. It wasn't new, it having been the third night of this happening. "What?" he asked tiredly. They went back to their own business, whatever it may have been. _'This has got to stop,'_ Harry thought bitterly. _'Who **was** that in my dream? Who wears a robe like that...? What were those lights?'_ He pushed the blankets away. It suddenly dawned on him that the heater had in fact not been on, and he felt a twinge of cold rush past his sweat-laden body. He blinked, subconsciously reaching for his glasses. They had, somehow, fallen onto the floor, and the exhausted Gryffindor had little to none of an idea of how they had done so. Pulling himself over the bed, he quickly found that his legs were indeed tangled in the mess of blanketing, and aggravatingly pulled himself free. His glasses, afterwards, were neatly set on his side table.

"I need to sleep," he murmured to himself, falling back against his bed. Thankfully, he had cooled off quite quickly, though he was no longer tired. He glanced at the clock. What was that—he pulled on his glasses lazily. Five A.M.? That was good enough. People would begin waking at six—not a big issue. As it turned out, a few had already left for either early studying or whatever else they might think of, and he wasn't too far behind. The infamous Harry James Potter was, in fact, a morning person. He stood, halfheartedly undressing, and replacing his nightclothes with his school uniform. It _was_ a bit cold. A blasting headache was coming on, though as he leaned against his bedpost pushed himself off. "What is _wrong_ with me?" he again murmured to himself, beginning to walk down the stairs to the common room. Hopefully, there wouldn't be anyone else there; he wasn't in the mood to talk, rather he wasn't in the mood to _look_ at anyone at this point. He paused, momentarily looking back once reaching the middle of the stairway. He had heard movement, but was relieved upon hearing the return of snoring.

The portrait, rather, the fat lady wasn't exactly in the best mood after being forced to open for the fifth time that morning. She let out an array of obscene words, though it didn't bother him. He began down the staircase, and much to his great pleasure there in fact was _not_ anyone there to bother him. Just the peaceful silence and respective footsteps from separate hallways, or other floors. For the most part, he was completely alone. He stopped for a moment, and stretched, glasses nearly falling off as he leaned down. Again, the usual. As he began walking, Harry faintly noticed that his robes were lightly billowing behind him, pulling a Snape move, only on that note did he feel a light tapping on his shoulders. The teen could have screamed, had it have been dark enough and the man pulled a lumos spell just to make himself look all the more creepy, though upon seeing the face of his semi-amused potions master, it spoke for itself. The poor boy could have fainted. "Er—Good morning, Sn—Professor." Again, may he restate that he was _not_ in the mood to talk, especially with his least favorite professor.

"Mr. Potter," came the cold voice, though a hint of amusement lay dead in his black eyes. "I was just looking for you. May I ask why you are out of bed so early?" Harry was growing just a tad irritated, but nothing more. He forced a calm demeanor outwards.

"I couldn't sleep, sir. I was going to go and attempt to study, maybe finish a bit of my homework." What else could he have said? Nothing, really. It's rather awkward, honestly, to actually go and try to seek out the man or woman in his dreams. He was almost positive that the person just _had_ to be here, though again found himself at a loss of even a clue, past the outfit.

"A bit early, don't you think?" he smirked. "Bad dream, eh, Mr. Potter?" Harry fell pale. "I'll be seeing you this afternoon. Also, the headmaster wishes to speak with you a bit after breakfast. Do be prompt." He continued to walk after the last word, and Harry was left for speechless.

How in the hell did _he_ know about it?

- - -

Review.

I give chapters.

Do you really want me to stop?

I'm enjoying this.

Don't make me stop.


	2. Events in a Hallway

**II**

**- - -**

"So, you woke up early, and..."

"...Harry might have had a reason, Ron!"

"Stop interrupting, Hermione! So, you woke up, went walking down the stairs and Snape came?"

Harry sighed heavily, his head falling prey to rolling downwards. "Yeah. He said that sometime after breakfast I had to go see Dumbledore. Er... Pass me a piece of toast, would you?"Reluctantly, he looked back up, the red-haired boy passing him a piece of toast. Ron was busily munching on his own piece, syrup and what not lazily dribbling down his chin before he bothered to wipe it away. Hermione, on the other hand, rolled her eyes. She hadn't eaten much, Harry had noticed, but he didn't bother to say anything. With suggestive eyes, Ron raised a eyebrow at the other, and Harry could have gagged if he had the same question in his head that Ron was too busy to ask. Disgusting. "Ew, no. He didn't try anything—Ron, why do you even _think_ that way?"

"Well, I heard that he got Hannah Abbott in the hall a few weeks ago--"

"Enough!"Hermione caught on a few moments later, just as Harry let himself exclaim this. "Argh. I highly doubt that he even knows the difference between girls and boys, and--" As he was talking, rather, ranting, Ron turned pale, thus dropping his toast. "--Has never gotten close enough to one to be able to see the differen--"

"Excuse me, Mr. Potter?" his mouth fell open.

"He's right behind me, isn't he?" Ron and Hermione nodded, both in sync with the other. Harry turned around, finding himself laughing nervously as he looked up into the obsidian eyes of none other than Severus Snape. He immediately swallowed his words, and, holding the not eaten piece of toast, offered it. "Toast, professor?" Snape scoffed, knocking his arm away. "Er... Alright then." of course, one would politely offer breakfast to their muse of insult—it's just the honest, stunned way of doing things. Nearly spitting out his orange juice, Ron's eyes were stuck on the looks on their faces. Hermione was close to laughing, but of course being friends with the poor other, didn't. She occupied herself with her eggs.

"_Twenty_ points from Gryffindor," Severus said, narrowing his eyes at Harry, "And I do think I know the general anatomy and the differentiating structures of both." And yes, he did attack the seeming 'hallway' through the tables with his signature walk and billowed robes. As he walked away, Harry could, in general, feel his head run cold, and his brain fall face first into his cereal, as he almost did. Hermione took a clamped hold on Harry's robe, and pulled him back up. He _did_ look tired, she noted, as he forced himself up.

"Harry, are you sick?" she asked, quizzically raising an eyebrow. He shook his head, yawning widely. "No sleep?"

"You could say that," Harry said, tiredly above anything. "I haven't got a lot of sleep lately. These dreams..."

"The dark lord?" Her voice was hushed as she asked this. Ron looked up from his oatmeal, wiping off his face. Harry's eye twitched for a moment, but he calmly replied within moments.

"No," he said, actually taking time to think about it. "No, guys, I don't think he's involved in it. If he is, he must have a secret fancy for bright colors and rainbows... Lights, too..." Ron could have snickered, but the time didn't call for it. Hermione's elbow met his side. "...There was somebody in it, though. I don't know who it was, but they were wearing black sleeves. I think they had a white dress shirt beneath it, and... Why are you guys looking at me like that? Do I have something on my face?" The two shook their heads, again simultaneously. The looks on their faces told otherwise, however, and Harry frowned deeply. "What?"

"Harry, d'you think it was Snape?"

He took the time to spit out his orange juice back into its glass as Ron said that. "_Ex_cuse me?" Harry asked, just dumbfounded as he thought about this. "No, it wasn't. The dream was too beautiful... And painful for him to be in it. If it was, I'd probably have been sick. Er, Hermione, what class do we have first today? I've forgotten my schedule, thanks to Ron over there." Tossing a bit of her hair back, Hermione rolled her eyes, pointing her hand lightly at McGonagall's seat.

"Transfiguration. Will we be seeing you there, Harry?"

"Probably, but only for a few minutes. I have to go talk to Dumbledore." Harry was now gathering his things together, in which the other two leaned forward again, as if to whisper something.

"Tell him about the dream, Harry," Ron urged. Harry nodded, halfheartedly smiling as he stood. Oh, geez. Merlin only knew what the old man wanted this early in the morning—Harry shook it off, blinking hardly as he adjusted his glasses, once and for all leaving the Great Hall. What the other two noticed, however, upon his departure was that Snape wasn't at the table where he was originally sitting. Ron sighed inwardly, picking at his toast for a moment before looking back to Hermione. "How much you wanna bet that he's going after Harry?"

"Honestly, Ron!"

"Well, I mean, it's just common knowledge—even you should know that he can't find love willingly, and--"

"You are _such_ an idiot sometimes. Maybe it involves Dumbledore! You don't know that." Ron scoffed, rolling his eyes. Hermione just sighed as they both got their things together for Transfiguration. There was _no _getting through to that boy unless Harry did the talking. Hmph.

- - -

DAMN.

Lotsa reviews. :3

Six? Honestly! I've never gotten that many!

Well, keep reviewing, and I'll keep writing.

-is loving this-


	3. Hushed Conversation

**III**

- - -

Harry's footsteps echoed largely in the hallways as he walked, occasionally stopping to stretch and/or yawn becoming the norm. "I hope I can remember the password," he muttered to himself, adjusting his glasses for the fiftieth time that day as he continued on. Thankfully, his office was only on the third floor, near the Defense Against the Dark Arts classrooms. His robes billowed behind him as he walked, finding it just a tad bit strange that no one was in the hallway, going to and from classes. However, as the teen reached the stone gargoyle, he stopped dead in his tracks. He could hear Snape talking. Harry leaned forward, ear nearly pressed to the stone, he receiving a scowl from the stone 'ornament'. He grumbled. "Fine, fine... Don't be snippy about it."

_'Sir, these dreams have become more than a bit inappropriate.'_

_'Severus, I highly doubt that, in Harry's terms, your shared dreams are, in actuality, going to go past anything but a nice, warm embrace.'_

_'Why do I see them? Albus, please explain this to me. I have, honestly, tried occlumency, but the damn kid keeps forcing himself through.'_

He raised an eyebrow. What was this, now? Sharing... Occlumency... _Inappropriate?_ Harry stepped a bit back, throughly stunned. Just then did a few more words occur, though they were inaudible, at least to where Harry was standing at this point. As the rocks reformed themselves, and a staircase was revealed where the gargoyle was, Harry began to walk forward upon placing his things on the floor, running into his infamous potions master for the third time that day. "Er... Hello, professor," he forced. Snape, again, scowled, pushing past him. "Ergh..." Harry shivered inwardly for a moment as he began up the steps, awkwardly meeting Dumbledore's eye. The older man was sitting at his desk, arms folded quite nicely on his desk. He motioned for Harry to sit down in one of the rather _soft_ looking chairs.

"Lemon drop, Harry?"

"Er, no thanks," Harry replied, smiling lightly. "Sir, I just he..."

"Ah. The conversation between me and Severus." Not for the first time in this year, or during the two years he had attended this school had the man been able to stun him speechless. "I suppose you were listening?" Harry fell silent for a moment. A light smile appeared on his headmaster's face.

"Yes, sir," Harry admitted, "Though it's strange. Why... Okay, why am I having these dreams? They're really beginning to scare me. I mean, they're nice and all, but recurring every night for a week straight would make anyone begin to wonder." Dumbledore leaned back in his chair.

"Harry, I've not an idea as to why your dreams are connected, but... I'd honestly start looking out a bit more. Not to scare you, though things like this really do _not_ start without a cause. So, they started a week ago, you say?" Harry nodded, and the other shook his head. At this point, Harry looked around, taking a special note that the portraits were indeed muttering about their conversation. He shot a glare, but it didn't do very much.

"Yes, about a week ago. Thank you, sir."

"Any time, Harry. Oh, and do have a nice day, will you?"

Harry nodded. The staircase reformed itself yet again, and he stood, finding himself quite comfortable and unwilling to get up. However, upon doing so, he heard a faint mutter from the old man: '_So strange..._'. Harry forced himself not to think about it as he indeed walked down the steps, almost falling from where he stood as the gargoyle appeared once more. Of course, he nearly had forgotten that his things were against the wall, and he picked them up. "This is getting ridiculous," Harry muttered to himself, replacing the bag over his shoulders. It was a bit heavy, he noticed. And, he began walking down the hallway and steps to Transfiguration. Again, it thankfully wasn't far, because it was on the first floor. "Why is it so quiet? Usually I hear explosions..."

The teen was proven a point as he entered the classroom. Everyone was taking a test, one that he had completely forgotten amongst the mumble-jumble of everything. Upon finding an empty seat, he placed his things down quietly, and made his way to McGonagall's desk. "I was talking to—" McGonagall cut him off.

"I understand, Mr. Potter. This period is nearly done with, so I do expect you here to make it up on Saturday. Do you understand?" Harry nodded quickly. "Good. To your seat, Mr. Potter." Harry turned, finding himself quite quick to get to his desk. He got few looks, which was an immensely good thing, because it meant _less questions_. Now to think about what he hard between Snape and Dumbledore... He groaned silently, head falling quietly onto the desk. He _really_ needed to sleep...

- - -

WOWTWELVE.

Twelve reviews, five-hundred fourty-six views, one c2, one favorite and thirteen alerts! Damn, this is my first story to reach that far.

Whod've known?

Anyways, as I said, keep reviewing, I keep writing.


	4. Nightmare

**IV**

- - -

Harder and _harder _and **_harder_. **Faster and _faster _and **_faster_**. Harry screamed as he fell through what was now a black abyss, red flashes of light going to and from anywhere they could. A hazy mist overshadowed him, and he was almost positive that his glasses _were_ indeed gone. His hands were flailing, trying to grab onto something that wasn't there though just couldn't, just couldn't, too hard, too far--He gasped for breath. It was as if the force of the throw, whatever it was, was now dragging him downwards into that… Was it a spiral? Green lights started to form as well. Rather, they were shooting at him. Oh, God, the screaming, the screaming was starting again; Harry covered his ears quickly. It still got louder, louder and _louder _and **_louder_** until he just couldn't take it anymore, but then he landed. He landed on a black floor, nothingness all around him. He tried to speak. Nothing. His only squeak came from that of the beginning of a scream. It felt like agony, like the bones had been sucked from his body, most positively broken.

But then he felt arms. Protective arms from nowhere picking him up, and he couldn't see very well. The figure was blurry, and it was dark everywhere but on their bodies. Harry attempted to turn his head, but it hurt too much. His head was bursting in two, by scar, it seemed. He tried to grasp his head, to try to comfort it, but his arm felt broken. Upon the tightening of the person's hold did Harry figure out that it indeed was a man, and he felt scared. For one of the first times in his life past the Dursley's home, he felt scared, he was frightened, he was _terrified_. "W-Who are you?" he squeaked. A gentle hand caressed Harry's cheek. He tried to pull away, but it was so comforting, oh so comforting. Grudgingly, he relaxed into it, unable to do anything else. But when the face came closer, just close enough to kiss, he realized who it was, it was---

He woke up, promptly screaming.

Right in the last few minutes of his Transfiguration class, Harry Potter was flailing in his seat, rather _falling _out of it, screaming and holding his head, at least for a few moments. A few of the students gaped, unable to move, while he suffered. "Snape," he screamed, over and _over_ again. McGonagall ushered everyone out, and it honestly didn't take but five minutes before Madam Pomfrey and a few of the other professors got a hold of him. He flinched away, violently fighting before she got him into a stretcher. Severus got there, last of course, mouth dropping in slight disgust yet amazement. Murmurs were now ringing through the hallway, every one of them questioning what had happened, and why Snape was involved.

"Betcha he's crazy," came one of the more formidable Slytherin girls. "Always knew that Potter was going to snap."

"No, no; Maybe he's got a thing for the professor, and is going _crazy in **love**._"

"No, no! I know what happened, listen to me! Maybe he was having a nightmare, and he was in it, and it involv---"

"_Ms. _Abbott, that would be enough, thank you," Severus snapped, promptly shutting them up besides hushed whispers. "Twenty _five_ points from Hufflepuff. Back to your dormitories or classes, all of you!" by the coldness of his voice, not a _soul_ dared to disobey. The sound of scuffling feet ran rampant as those kids, to be vulgar, got their asses back where they belonged. He turned to McGonagall, eyebrow twitching lightly. "I have not an idea of what you are to think right now, Minerva, though I will say _do **not** get ideas_." Before the stunned woman could reply, Snape was down the hall, robes billowing angrily behind him. He was, of course, going to the hospital wing to find out exactly _what_ the hell was going on.

Harry lay flat in one of the beds, staring mindlessly at the ceiling for what it was worth. The thoughts of 'what the hell just happened to me' and 'what am I going to say to my friends' were ringing forth, though the all-time favorite 'why was Snape about to fucking kiss me' seemed to run the most common. He turned over, laying on his stomach, head buried in his pillow. His head no longer hurt, but he _did_ feel rather stringy. The doors opened, nearly slamming against the wall and promptly breaking them. Harry jumped, violently, of course, and nearly fell out of his bed before grabbing onto his sheets, pulling himself forward with a groan. Severus came forward moments later, black sleeved hand resting heavily on the bedstand. "You," he hissed, glaring down at the supposedly 'sleeping' boy, "What are you doing to me? Why are you in my damn _mind_?" Harry didn't know whether to scream or answer him sickeningly politely, so, he promptly chose the latter of the two.

"That's a question I can't answer, _professor_, if you don't tell me why you're screwing up _mine_," Harry retorted, the word 'professor' coming out like a sick, dirty word. "I don't… I don't like this any more than you do, _trust_ me. Do you think I really want you to kiss me? Or _hold_ me like a damsel in distress? No _thank_ you, _sir_." Again with the sick words, recognizing 'sir'.

"Potter," he seethed, leaning quite dangerously close as the boy turned over to look at him, "I _assure_ you that it isn't _my_ doing, because I do know that I _would _have better fucking taste than a little _scrawny_ boy like you, and---"

"Excuse me, Severus," came an interrupting voice, that of Madam Pomfrey's, "But he does need his rest. Kindly leave." He scowled, widely glaring down at Harry before he turned, black hair nearly making the same motion as his robes. However, as he reached the doors, he was promptly greeted by Hermione.

"Harry, Harry! I think I know why you're hav---Oh. Er, hello, professor."

"Out of my way," he hissed, pushing the girl aside. He disappeared into the hallway as Hermione came in, thoroughly stunned.

Harry had never felt more embarrassed in his life than he had at that moment.

- - -

Sixteen reviews, one _thousand_ hits, two c2s, three favorites and eighteen watchers.

I'm a lucky author, yes indeedy!

Oh, yes.

Now that I have enough people, every fiftieth reviewer wins a chapter. Hear me? Yes you do!

Thank you guys SO much for encouraging me to continue this---I wasn't sure I'd make it past the second chapter, but here I am.

Oh, and every eighteen reviews I'm going to have a reply dump. So, if you've reviewed recently, read this to see if you're on it.

-beware, long review replies ahead-

**Kamori**: Thanks! I've never been told that before, at least about the detail. I think I'm getting a lot better… -lol first reviewer.-

**Whitehound**: Thanks. I do think, however, that it's rather in-character, because to me she seems like the type of woman that at five in the morning _would_ get rather pissed off at the comings and goings of students at five in the morning, but again, that's just me. As it is, it's going to be the connection for a while, though I haven't fully decided if I'm going to move it on to that point as of yet. Depends on what you lot think, really.

**Enemywithin7**: Oh _snap_, I have a believer. Keep on, because I've got some great ideas coming through. Thanks for the good review!

**Yaoi-fied**: Thanks for the reviews… All three of them. I was like, 'I have a returner! -sets out food-'. You're one of those inspirational people for me, just caring enough to post a review. I like you lots.

**Mywayornoway**: Thanks. I think it _did _come off to a nice start, honestly--I like how it's turning out.

**Suiteki**: Whoohoo! Don't worry, there's going to be _loads_ more. A chapter a day, if I can handle it.

**OK**: Thanks for the nice comment. Lil' Jon! Ohkay.

**Danger-Sly-Understanding**: -…updates when no one's looking.- Thanks for the comment, and don't worry, I will.

**Animegurl088**: Thanks for the comment. I didn't think it'd get this far, but what do you know? Here we are.

**Lizzy**: They are? Wow. Thanks! That just makes my afternoon a lot better. To me, Harry seems a bit like his older self, but… Yeah. Thanks!

**GalynSolo**: My idea? Interesting? Have a cookie, my friend, for being interested. I'll keep writing, don't you worry, and the luck is _needed_. -drinks felix felicis-

**Unjustbecky**: So many people like it… My friends didn't really like it all. Don't worry, I'll keep them coming!

**FREAKY CHICK**: Woooow at the caps. I know it's weird---I got it when I was listening to a song called 'Heroes Symphony'… Strange. Anyways, thanks for the comments, and you'll find out what the dreams mean in the next chapter.

**Alexander Black**: Ah, ah, ah! Sorry, love, but I can't tell you that yet! Thanks for the comment. Just remember, it's not completely innocent, and… I don't know that as of yet. I put the rating on 'mature' just to be safe, though I'm not sure if I'm to take it to another level. I'm thinking about it, though. Agh, Snape'd be disgusted. Haha, fun times. Don't worry, I'm going to update soon---tomorrow, of course.


	5. Romanorum Nex

**V**

Note: _Please _tell me if anything I am writing is wrong (as in, grammar, punctuation, etc.) and why in a review. I'm trying to get better, so, thanks for your time!

- - -

"Out of my way," he hissed, pushing the girl aside. He disappeared into the hallway as Hermione came in, thoroughly stunned. She actually did turn to Harry, mouthing words of question as Madam Pomfrey brought him his lunch. He shrugged, raising his hands in light defeat as the brunette walked forward, sitting on the edge of his bed. There was a moment of awkward silence as Harry lightly sipped his milk, though it was quickly remedied by the sound of Hermione's bag opening. Leaning forward, he lightly questioned this with his eyes, but it wasn't answered. With delicate hands she pulled out a semi-thick book, laying it over her legs. He adjusted himself accordingly.

It took her a moment to find the page, but when she did, he gaped. "The 'Romantic Death'," she pronounced. "It connects the dreams of two individuals by that of dark magic. Harry, could you _feel_ anything in your dreams? I mean, I know you could see just fine, but could you feel?" He thought for a moment, shivering in disgust upon finding an answer.

"Yeah," Harry replied, bitterly as it was, "I could feel."

"Okay. Well, it says here that the aggressor kills its victim through these dreams. Not the other individual, however---he's a failsafe to his plan, if this is really it. If he can't kill you, he ends the dreams upon… Erm… _Means_." Harry's mouth dropped open. So, Voldemort was _most likely_ involved, and… Snape was a failsafe? How'd he end up being the damn answer? But, at the last bit, it made him spit out his milk, of course back into its cup.

"_What_ means?" Harry demanded.

"Well, Harry… Oh, this is disgusting. Maybe… Maybe you should read this for yourself."

He snatched the book quickly, making the girl jump in almost surprise. He couldn't read as fast as she could, but upon finding that paragraph, cringed in outright _disgust_. "You… Mean, er… If my definition of 'copulate' is correct… Ew. That is… Ew." He slammed the book closed, tossing it on the floor as if it were to curse him. Hermione nodded in agreement, the shared look of outright _hate_ on her face.

"Well, it says that you have to do such a disgusting, vile thing so it proves that the individual is your one true love. If not, Harry, you're as good as dead. It's like Romeo and Julie---"

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, sorry---a love story where the two lovers die. But it's like that, you see---if Voldemort manages into your dreams, and he hasn't because Snape is keeping up barriers with Legilimency, I'd watch it. Things might get a bit dodgy." Harry shut his eyes tightly, now burrowing his face in his hands, shaking it a bit to try and free himself of the images. Hermione could have looked amused, but this, unfortunately, was not the time. "Also, the spell for it is 'Romanorum Nex'. There is no counter spell… I've looked. Who do you think cast it, Harry?"

The other found himself in trivial thought, confused to a large point. "I… Don't know, Hermione. I really don't. Who would have had the chance?" that _was_ right. It pretty much ruled out most of the students at this school, though Harry _was_ going to go and have a talk with the blond-haired pretty-boy later on. "Are you _sure_ there isn't a counter spell? Please keep looking, Hermione. I'd rather not… Er… Die or snog Snape in a dream. Each of those two options are equally bad." this caused the brunette to laugh, though Harry shot a look equal to one of Snape's glares.

"Sorry," she quickly said, standing, and holding the book closely to her chest. Her bag, on the floor, quite connected with her left hand as she picked it up. "I'll keep looking, Harry, and have Ron come too. Not that he helps, but it's nice to have someone to talk to. Get well soon!" As she began to walk out, Harry thought about the last bit, and just as the door closed:

"Do you _like_ him?"

Nothing. He leaned back in his bed, quickly eating his abandoned lunch. Suddenly, he felt quite hungry, and slightly sick. However, at the same time, there was an equally disgusted Severus Snape reading over the _same_ copy of the book---and nearly gagging. Whatever had possessed Voldemort to do this was _beyond_ him, but… Agh.

Just… No.

Who would have known that one of his _only_ solaces, sweet dreams, would be so fucking _rudely_ interrupted by that annoying _brat_ in second year? He groaned. This was completely and _totally_ wrong, not to mention disgusting and entirely _wrong_. He stood, slamming the book shut. Be it known that the man was in the library, though now he had made his mind up to do just one thing: Go to Dumbledore, then to Potter.

And, however suddenly it was, he hated Gryffindor more than ever.

- - -

Well, apparently the word 'Tween' isn't in the English language (but I fixed it! Hurrah!).

I'm sorry if this isn't a great chapter, but I just woke up. Haha. It amused me enough, though. Romanorum Nex, the 'Romantic Death!'

Don't be tumultuous, folks---Voldie's making a comeback!

Also making a _traitor _pay back for what he did!

(I don't like Half-Blood Prince---great book, just… Ew.)

So, keep on reviewing, I keep writing!

Hoorah for Christmas vacation and friends!

Well, _friend_, but that's not the point.


	6. Craving of Words

**VI**

Note: Yes, I know Harry's young. Don't worry, people—I intend for him to be older, so, this story is going to span over a number of years. Merry (early) Christmas, too! Sorry this chapter is late, I intended to type it yesterday, though I was asleep most of the day. (Who'dve known?) Alright, so, commencing the writing. Also, 'Draco and the Malfoys' is the coolest band in the _world_.

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Dancing. Dancing as if there was no tommorow, on a stage glittering with light. His hands, Harry's, connected with Severus', and he was twirled elegantly around, as people cheered them on, all happy and oblivious to the fact that this dream might entail their unfortunate, sadistic deaths. A garden party, it was. Everyone from Hogwarts was there, Hermione looking more like a girl for once as she and Ron mindlessly kissed. Forever, _forever_ he promised, looking down into his eyes, just as a scream was erupting in the crowd, and a green light—

He screamed. Rather, was screaming. It had been a few months, close to Christmas, actually, and he had gotten rather used to having these idiotic dreams. Ron, having been warned to wake him up if he was screaming, was shaking him violently. "Hey! Harry! You're okay—Wake up!" He flinched madly, nearly falling out of his bed. Agh, those sheets were so welcoming with their tangling! Harry groaned loudly, finding that a rather loud crunch sounded once he rolled back onto his bed fully. Hurriedly, the teenager flailed his hand around on the side table, feeling a sudden rush of insane stupidity wash over him upon the sudden realization that he indeed had fallen asleep with his glasses on. Ron winced, moving away as Harry got himself untangled from the linen. Nearly stabbing himself, Harry picked up the bent frame and the glass pieces, dropping them quite gracefully on his side table.

"This has _got_ to stop," Harry muttered, angrily sitting up. Of course, this was a repeated quote, and he didn't really have the sense to at least attempt to block it out. "Ron, what time is it?" The redhead held up his clock, as he was getting dressed, himself. Seven A.M... Harry figured, at that point, that he'd not be getting much sleep banked up for the holidays. He laid back down, sweat-slicked hair falling onto his face. "What day is it?"

"Saturday. Er... We start holidays on Monday, don't we?"

"Yeah."

Ron looked to Harry after a moment, slightly questioning in his look. "Did you have another one of those... Er, dreams?" Harry felt himself go pale with embarrassment, and he shivered a bit violently. "I take that as a yes. Snogged yet?"

"Ron, ew." They both took it as an inside joke, laughing a bit. Most of the others were out doing their own thing—it seemed as if the belief of sleeping in on a Saturday was going to the dogs. The other stood, finally ripping the tangled sheets—figuratively, though—off of his body. "Things are getting really... Kind of scary. I'm not going to lie to you, mate, the dreams are disgusting in their own Snape-ish way." That sent them both into fits of laughter, again as Harry got dressed. Currently, as he was tossing on a worn t-shirt and sweater, he was clad in golden snitch boxers. Very becoming, he mused, pulling on his usual jeans for the weekend.

"Think Malfoy's staying?" Ron asked, idly putting on a scarf. Harry shrugged, shaking his head as if answering him.

"I don't know, but I hope he's not. Above all things I don't need that prat bothering me." As Harry finished this, the redhead pulled a suitcase—it had been resting on his bed—off of the mattress, waving lightly. Harry raised an eyebrow.

"I thought you were staying."

Shrugging, the other held it up. "Well, I got an owl yesterday morning. Turns out that mum and dad canceled their trip... I'll see you in a few weeks, Harry." Harry weakly smiled as Ron left the dormitory, grumbling softly as he found that, indeed he was the only one left in Gryffindor over the holidays. He didn't let himself brood, though he began to leave to the Great Hall to get a semi-early breakfast. Suddenly, the teen had felt the least bit starved, though all thoughts of food escaped him as soon as the sight of a rather... Tired potions master graced his eyes.

Severus Snape was rather tired—he had been, for a while. Not sleeping for a week could do that to one, and of course the sight of a certain Harry James Potter didn't aid his nerves at all. "Out of my way," he snapped, viciously pushing past the other on his way into the Great Hall. A few first years, Hufflepuff, Harry gathered, squeaked as he knocked them from their bench with skilled, irritable hands. Interestedly did the Gryffindor teen follow him, almost snickering by the looks on the first year's faces. Immediately afterwards did he feel a pang of guilt, though he forced it away. This was just... This was just too _perfect_. However, at reaching the head of the student's tables, he turned, eyes boring into Harry's. "What do you want, _Mr._ Potter?" of course, his voice was a slight sneer. Harry wouldn't have had it any other way, but it lightly scared him that his mind lightly fluttered, almost queasily, as the older man spoke.

"Nothing, _Professor_ Snape," he replied, the same vicious bitterness in his own voice. "Though I must say, beauty sleep's done nothing for you, _sir_." Students turned. Harry suddenly felt a twinge of fear, as would anyone. His bravery astounded Severus, though the other's lips curled, at the edges, into a sadistically amused smirk. He blinked, just taking that in. At that moment, as Snape began to walk back towards the teen, Harry couldn't have felt any more of an 'I'm fucked' feeling if he had tried, especially when a hand made contact with his collar.

Ah, damn.

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-snort-

I'm enjoying this altogether too much.

Also, a question for you guys—Should I follow the events in the books completely, loosely, or not at all? I'm debating at this.

So, review away!


	7. Author's Note

Hey, guys.

I'm sorry I haven't updated in a while; I've been going through a tough time of things, and I've not access to my computer except for school, and even so, that is limited. I promise that I'll update soon, but please bear in mind that I am only a person, and certain problems (family, lack there of), can and probably will limit me from doing even the things that I very much love.

I do care about this story, and I haven't abandoned it. During the hiatus from the lack of a computer, I have become a better writer (I hope). Please believe me when I say this, that I will continue the Symphony, and maybe even change what I was hoping for it to end out as.

I miss living with my grandmother, because I did have the extra things like a computer and cable. But, I don't miss when she treated me horribly, and even though I don't have those things at the current time, my mother and father love me much more than she did. I'm overjoyed, but I still feel bad for leaving all of my readers hanging.

Trust me, I didn't want any of this, but it had to happen.

Expect a new chapter (extra-long, just for you!) in the next few days/weeks.

Love,

**SadisticxBoredom**


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